Mad as Hell
by capableoflove
Summary: One little comment from Malfoy is enough to send Ginny over the edge. She confronts him in a way he's not quite used to.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing. I wish I did, but life's just funny that way._

**Mad As Hell  
**

Ginny pushed her body tighter against the wood between her legs. The vibrations shooting through her body only served to increase her excitement. She was so close.

"Faster, she gritted through her teeth. "I'm almost there!" With a triumphant shout, she surged forward and cut in front of Flint. She reached forward her fingertips barely managing to keep control of the Quaffle which had been dislodged from Warrington by their own teams misplaced Bludger. She mentally cursed that twit Sloper, who always seemed to do more damage to the Gryffindor team than the opposing side. But she didn't have time to dwell on another's mistakes; she had some points to score. She turned on a dime and went immediately into a Woollongong Shimmy to lose Flint who had been just an arm's reach behind her. Not for the first time that match, she found herself flying headfirst towards the Slytherin goals. She tossed the ball behind her, where she knew Dean would be waiting. The Slytherin defense made a mistake and two Chasers followed Thomas as he attempted to weave his way through the players to the Slytherin goals. Ginny's brain always shut off as she neared the hoops, leaving only her instincts to guide her play. In this case, flew alongside Dean ready for the pass. She had a clear alley to the goal, and she tried to call out for the pass, but Thomas either didn't hear her or simply ignored it. He managed to inch by the last Slytherin Chaser and made a wide shot which barely hit the end of the Keepers broom and ricocheted into the hoop. She shook her head. Dean relied way too heavily on luck, when a more sensible play would result in a much easier score. But those were the types of goals that made him a favorite of the house and more than a handful of signs cheering him on could be seen in the Gryffindor tower.

She heard the telltale murmurs from the crowd that let her know the Snitch had been spotted near the Pitch. She knew only a bad Quidditch player stopped to watch when the Snitch was spotted. Distracted chasers meant an easy goal for the opposing team, and Ginny did not tolerate easy goals.

"Demelza," she called to the newest Chaser, who had turned to watch the streak of green and red that shot towards the Snitch and victory for one of the teams. The girl quickly realized her mistake and followed closely behind Ginny to the other side of the Pitch to defend their own goals. Demelza was fast enough that she almost got to their hoops before Ginny. Before the Slytherin chasers could mount an attack, Ginny heard the familiar whistle followed by cheering from the crowd that signified a Seeker had caught the Snitch.

She stopped where she was and looked around. The cheering in the stands was always the quickest way to figure out who had won, and as she quickly scanned the gold and red tower that held the Gryffindor fans. She was dismayed to see no flags waving in the air or people cheering.

"Fuck," she muttered under breath. Inside her head, she was screaming a litany of words that would make even a Goblin blush. Her mouth tightened into a grimace and she refused to turn towards the Slytherin tower where the celebration was taking place.

Her broom touched down next to Harry, but she didn't try to console her captain. She knew he liked to be left alone after a loss, and frankly she didn't enjoy being around him when he was that moody. Harry always blamed himself when a loss, which is probably fair considering he was their Seeker and captain. Ginny knew, even if he didn't, that the outcome of a school Quidditch game was not going to ruin her life. That doesn't mean she didn't want to win, she was driven more by personal pride and an intensely competitive spirit than by the supposed importance of the game. A loss like that made her mad, not sullen like Harry. She patted Harry on the back and lined up with the rest of her teammates. They had to wait while the Slytherin team celebrated their victory. Their captain, Malfoy, was particularly triumphant. He was an obnoxious twit on the pitch anyways. He would often point out fouls to the referee and complain loudly about "botched calls". She had no respect for that sort of whiny player who didn't realize that mistakes on the Official's part were a part of the game. If they didn't see a foul, it wasn't a foul. That was Ginny's personal philosophy and she often took advantage of it. However, it meant she had to be just as willing to take a hit as she was to give one. She never complained if someone was playing a little rougher than strictly allowed by the rules. After all, Quidditch was a tough game, and if someone couldn't take it, they shouldn't be playing. Finally after a few more minutes of celebration, Hooch blew the whistle again. Slytherin lined up facing the Gryffindor team.

Dumbledore had initiated a new tradition a few years prior that year that supposedly forced the students to be good sports. Teams lined up after the match and had to shake the hands of the opposing team. In truth, it was a bittersweet practice, bitter for the losing side and sweet for the winners. It was customary for the teams to mutter taunts under the breath out of earshot of the teachers and officials. Post game taunting was usually done in a sort of jest to lighten the tension after intense games, but the Slytherin team always seemed to relish in adding insult to injury whenever they won. Ginny steeled herself against what she knew would be coming; in the state she was in, it was a struggle not to pound on every greasy snake with a snide comment to make.

As the lines slowly lumbered past each other, most players gave the most fleeting handshakes they could, their hands barely even touching. She refused to be cowed by their taunts though and forced her steely gaze to meet the eyes of every player whose hand she shook. As was customary, the captain of each team was at the end of the line as she got closer to Malfoy, she could see out of the corner of her eye his insufferable smirk. He was always a self-satisfied git, but he was sure to be even worse now that he had beaten Harry Potter, The-boy-who-outshone-him.

She was shocked when instead of the superficial hand-touch that was the norm for such occasions, Malfoy grasped her hand firmly and said clearly, "Good game, Ginny." She could barely keep her face from betraying her shock. She didn't turn to look back at him as she walked as quickly as her sore body would allow her towards the Gryffindor locker room. The atmosphere was subdued inside the locker room. Harry was taking off his gear with such fervency that Ginny knew it was fueled by his angst from the game.

After a win, the locker room would be full of sounds of celebration. They would be trading stories about stealing the Quaffle from him and blocking that shot by her.

"Practice tomorrow," Harry said as he left. Slowly one by one, each player left for the common room where no one would be waiting to congratulate them. Ginny remained alone, and decided she might as well shower there. She couldn't help but think about what Malfoy had said. She knew it was silly, that there was no meaning to his actions at all, but she couldn't help but dwell on it.

The more she thought about it the stranger it seemed. She would have expected him to use his own moment of triumph to humiliate whoever he could. Granted, she wasn't normally on his radar. He tended to focus more on her older brother's friends. It made sense Harry was his biggest rival, and they were all in the same year. They had classes together all the time, but Ginny was a year younger. She had never had a class with Malfoy and to be honest she hadn't even realized he knew her name. He had never shown an ounce of interest or even acknowledged her since she'd started at Hogwarts. Unless he was blind or an idiot, he'd obviously been able to figure she was a Weasley by the hair, but how did he know her first name was Ginny. She couldn't help herself. Her mind was racing down pathways she didn't want to explore. She couldn't help herself but wonder why he had shown any interest in her at all. It would have been only too easy for him to rub everyone's face in the fact that they had lost. Instead, he had been cordial, almost even, dare she say it, nice to her. By the time, she had dried off she was determined to not think about Malfoy's confusing behavior anymore.

By the next day, she realized that it wouldn't be so easy to ignore the incident. As she sat down next to Hermione for breakfast, she couldn't help but peak over at the Slytherin table. She watched as Malfoy ate and occasionally talked to those around him. Not wanting to be caught, she forced herself to look down at her own plate. She chatted with Hermione about some new policy in the library and forced her face to arrange itself in what she hoped was a rapt expression. But of course, her mind was two tables over on a certain paradoxical, blond Slytherin.

She realized she was slowly steering her conversation with the older girl to the Quidditch match the day before. From there, it wasn't hard for Ginny to bring up the topic of Slytherin without her curiosity catching the interest of the astute brunette.

"So how exactly did Malfoy manage to beat out Harry yesterday?" She kept her eyes on her eggs. It wouldn't be amiss for her to ask Hermione after a loss. Both Harry and her brother would be too riled up to give her an honest account of the game.

"He just did. He was faster is all. I'm sure if he had won by some kind of cheating Harry could at least blame it on that." Hermione shrugged. Her voice was low enough that no one would be able to hear her blaspheme by admitting a Slytherin had been better than a Gryffindor at anything, but Ginny was not surprised at her honesty. Most Gryffindors would have lied, but not Hermione. To her Quidditch was just a game, and most certainly not worth lying for.

"That explains Harry's mood," she murmured under her breath. Hermione smiled at that but was diplomatic and said nothing. Ginny had Divination in a few minutes so she bid farewell to her friends and made her way up the North Tower.

"Have you noticed anything different about him these days?"

"Harry? No not really, why?"

"No. Malfoy," Ginny tried to keep her tone neutral. Hermione looked at Ginny carefully as she answered.

"No, but I'm sure he'll be more of a smug bastard after winning." Hermione's words didn't mirror the suspicion in her eyes. Ginny nodded glancing across to the Slytherin table. She noticed Malfoy collect his books and leave the Great Hall. Propelled by some strange impulse she did the same, bidding a quick goodbye to Hermione, Ginny left the hall only a minute behind Malfoy. She had no idea why she was following him, and she was torn between going back to the Common Room or confronting him when she saw him slip into an empty classroom. Her curiosity would no longer let her leave and so she inched towards the door. The light was off and she slipped inside.

"_Lumos,_" she whispered, and in the pale green light she was suddenly aware of a wand pointed straight at her face. Instinct made her freeze where she stood. Malfoy spoke the charm that lit the globes and suddenly the entire room was filled with light.

"Why are you following me? Are Potty and the Weasel using you to spy on me?" his voice was amused, and he clearly did not see her as a threat.

"What?" she asked dumbfounded. She was still reeling from being discovered.

"I knew Potter and your brother wouldn't be able to face their own inadequacy at Quidditch. I figured they'd try to hatch some ill-advised plot for revenge but even I didn't think they'd be this stupid." Draco smirked at her.

"Nobody sent me," she spat. Malfoy could always find ways to annoy her when he didn't speak to her; conversation with him was maddening. She itched to slap that smirk off his face.

"Then why are you here?" he sighed. He lowered his wand a few inches but still looked ready as if he expected a gang of Gryffindor thugs to bust into the room at any moment.

"You know why!" she exclaimed. All her anger and confusion were bubbling in her stomach ready to erupt out at any minute. Draco looked at her like she should be institutionalized.

"I have no clue what the hell you're talking about. Now if you'll excuse me," he tried to push past her, out the door but she planted her hands on his chest and shoved him backwards.

"I don't think so mister," she planted one hand on her hip. "I want an explanation right now, and I think you're the one with some kind of plot against me! Yesterday after the game, you said and I quote, 'Good game, Ginny.' What the hell does that mean? Are you trying to mess with my head by being nice to me?" Her voice had risen slowly until she was nearly shouting at the blond boy. He took a step back, trying to escape the crazy redhead shouting at him for no reason.

"You followed me because I told you 'good game', and somehow that means I have some evil plot against you?" he asked incredulously. He clearly thought she was batty.

"Yes?" Hearing him say it out loud lowered her resolve. It did sound silly coming from Malfoy, "I don't know. Why did you say it?"

"Because I was in a good mood. I had just beaten you, the Gryffindor house, which I hate, at Quidditch." He spoke slowly as if explaining to a child. His answer made sense, but it made his comment, which had given her so much cause to fret, trivial. He had obviously not given his words a single thought, but she had a spent a whole day agonizing over hidden meaning and nonexistent plots. Ginny felt foolish.

"But you called me Ginny," she countered, "I didn't even realized you knew my name."

"That's what this is about? The fact that I knew your name?" He derided. "I'm captain of the Slytherin team. It's my job to know about the best Chaser on each house's team. Counter-strategy and all that. It wasn't some big deal." The smirk reappeared on his face. "Don't think so highly of yourself, Weasley."

Ginny's thoughts were going a mile a minute. There had been no plot, no secret meaning. She felt foolish, but something had caught her interest. Draco had called her the best Chaser on the Gryffindor team. No one had ever called her that before. Most people thought of Dean as the star Chaser. He had a flashy style of play that resulted in some cool goals, but he was inconsistent on defense. She was used to not getting the praise from her teammates and fellow house members. But somehow Malfoy had singled out her to be worried about. He hadn't chosen Dean who scored more, or Demelza who was the fastest flyer in almost any house. He had chosen her. Later, she would blame it on adrenaline, but unable to stop herself, she rushed forward. Her lips met his and fire rushed through her veins. He tried to pull back away from her, but Ginny just pushed her body tighter against his. The vibrations shooting through her body only served to increase her excitement. Their bodies were so close she could feel his heartbeat. One hands wound into her hair and the other rested tightly on her hip.

She pushed him away gently. "See you later, Malfoy," she whispered. She left the classroom, but Malfoy didn't move.

"You Gryffindors are mad as hell," he said as she opened the door, his voice rough.

_A.N. Please please review! Reviews are my bread and butter :)_


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